


A Language of Our Own

by 8the_cat_chemist_doctor8



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ancient Rome, Demon Summoning, Eden - Freeform, Mentioned Hastur (Good Omens), Other, Trolling, tbh this is me exploring metaphors with these two, will edit and add tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-23 15:17:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23213566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8the_cat_chemist_doctor8/pseuds/8the_cat_chemist_doctor8
Summary: Angels have always used the high and divine language of Enochian. They would never dirty their tongue with the language that demons formed for themselves and learnt after their fall. It contained Enochian aspects, of course, as their original native language had been Enochian and they did not know language that didn’t consist of the supernatural elements that made up Enochian, but they called the new language Naihcone (or enochian backwards.) Humans have Latin. It’s the closest to Enochian they ever got. But they also have their many different languages. These languages tend to be hard for Angels or demons to understand/speak so most of them just elect to learn Latin and be done with it.Except for a certain Demon and Angel.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 33





	1. mercy - a subjective definition

Current theories on the creation of the Universe state that, if it was created at all and didn’t just start, as it were, unofficially, it came into being between ten and twenty thousand million years ago. By the same token the earth itself is generally supposed to be about four and a half thousand million years old.

These dates are incorrect.

Medieval Jewish scholars put the date of the Creation at 3760 B.C.

Greek Orthodox theologians put Creation as far back as 5508 B.C.

These suggestions are also incorrect.

Archbishop James Usher (1580-1656) published _Annales Veteris et Novi Testamenti_ in 1654, which suggested that the Heaven and the Earth were created in 4004 B.C.

Ones of his aides took the calculation further, and was able to announce triumphantly that the Earth was created on Sunday the 21stof October, 4004 B.C. at exactly 9:00 A.M. because God liked to get work done early in the morning while She was feeling fresh.

This too was incorrect. By almost a quarter of an hour.

This is relevant only in the eyes of planning. The reason She did so at this time, rather than perhaps the day or month before, is that She had been spending time devising and planning the language and culture of not just humanity, but of the angels, demons and saints.

You see, language is important in the sense that it shapes how thoughts are framed, how life is perceived, and so forth. If She had not been so exact in Her language building, the world would be a less advanced place and Her ineffable plan would have to be slowed down.

So. In the creation of language, She balanced it. Like all things should be.

In the plan of heaven and hell, She drafted them as opposites. In almost everything.

In the plan of humanity, She drafted a bit of each side in every part of their culture. Including language.

Take English, for example. English, depending on context, can be used to oppress and empower, inspire cruelty or love, and so on.

Enochian, She decided, would be the language of Her foot soldiers and those who served Her. She poured parts of Her omnipotent knowledge into the framework of the language so they could shape the world around them with just a word. She used space and time to fabricate the grammar.

Enochian, the language of the angels. Made with divinity, love and power.

And what of the demons? Would She gift them a lesser language?

No.

In Her ineffable plan, She planned that those who fell would not be able to stand any of her holiness. Consecrated words, items and ground becoming items of destruction to demonstrate punishment for disobeying.

However, She was merciful.

She granted them three divine things:

Their wings if they survived the test of Sulfur, their omnipotent powers (though turned dark), and to keep their angelic language.

This way, they were still bound to Her will.

Of course, She allowed the angels and demons _some_ free will, as She did the humans. However they could not stray far from Her plan no matter how hard they tried.

With this, She watched as the demons crafted their own Anti-Enochian, a language of their own.

And She had pondered whether to take back the ability to speak Enochian from them.

She gives them permission to speak Her language, and they repay Her thus?

But She was merciful.

She had then decided to weave language into Her ineffable plan, especially with what She fondly called the ‘Apocalypse that never occurred.’


	2. paradise - how can one know it if there is nothing to compare it to?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eden! :)

Crowley had remembered how hymns had sizzled on his serpentine tongue the day after he fell.   
His name had been Crawly at the time, and he had been lying coiled somewhere in serpentine form in the Space Unknown. He had started to hum the notes to the draft of one of the hymns that was going to be given to humans, when he felt divine pain kindle and explode like a supernova in his mouth.   
Panic had risen at the time, running through the realisation that he was barred from all the holy things he had done before to appreciate Her.   
Crawly was unsure whether to feel angry at Her like the others did for sending him swan diving into that pot of Sulfur. But She was still God. His creator, parent and more.   
But he remembered attempting to speak Enochian for the first time in the hours and hours between his fall and this moment.   
And it didn’t sizzle on his tongue. It just came out in a hiss in his serpent form, life and space spinning around him as it usually did when Enochian was spoken.   
Crawly was relieved. He remembered looking up at the sky, as if looking for Her in the damp ceiling, tongue poking out and tasting the air, but knowing She would not come to him. He had found out from Lucifer that She did not intend to show Her face to any of them again.   
But Crawly was thankful for the small comforts She had provided, like their language.  
After a while, the Fallen picked up their broken pieces, tied and fixed wings back together, preened and quieted down. All of them had fought internal battles in the time that it had taken them to find their footing, but the majority of them hadn’t trusted anyone after the fall. It was obvious, the being they had had the most trust in was Her, but even She had broken that trust.   
On this unstable basis, Lucifer emerged leader. He had been the most disfigured during the fall, and was hardly recognisable to any of the Fallen. His skin had become more akin to scales, his hair and wings had become something out of their nightmares.   
Lucifer was bent on revenge. He wanted to torture and agonise the humans for separating him and God.   
Everyone agreed. Crawly, however, was of a different opinion.  
It was all Lucifer’s fault, in his eyes. The only reason he was tied up in this was that he had hung around the wrong people too long.   
Lucifer was being a big self centred idiot, in plain speech. He didn’t want a part in it.   
So when he heard that there was a big job up on the surface of this cage She had thrown them in in the centre of the Earth, he jumped on it immediately.   
He didn’t quite know how to go about it, but he watched and learnt as the others did with their demonic duties and ways of living from Lucifer. Crawly did everything in his power to suck up to those in charge, which was looking like Lucifer, Beelzebub, Hastur and Damon.   
Luckily for him, they were supposed to be his ‘besties.’   
It didn’t take much after he learnt all the new demon customs, lingo and way of life to wiggle his way up to the job on the surface.   
When he did he was very thankful he made the choice to do so.   
The garden that he had heard so much about in Heaven? It was beautiful. Vivid colour greeted by verdant green, and his eyes skipped from the wall to the garden and the animals. It was strange, new and decadent in it’s own ways. He spent hours exploring it, taking gulps of fresh, crisp air like his life depended on it. The thought of going back down to the damp, dank and dark cavelike place of what had now been named ‘Hell’ was almost unbearable.   
It was only after he had completed his demon duties, when he spotted the Angel.   
They were bright, shining in a mix of divine emotion- the multitudes of eyes shined back at him in the ghost of the high celestial plane. Crawly just slithered up the wall behind the Angel, careful of the Angel’s feet.   
It was only after he had shifted into his human corporation that he tested out his Enochian for the first time since Naihcone, the demon language, was whipped up.   
The Angel startled, a nervous chuckle coming from his corporation’s lips. The humans would’ve heard just that, but Crawly heard it in the celestial plane and it was, he decided, the most beautiful thing he’d heard in months.   
“Sorry, what was that?” The Angel prompted, confused, in Enochian.  
“I said, well that went down like a lead balloon.” Crawly reiterated, voice more sure this time. The Angel should have understood him, Crawly knew his Enochian was rusty, but surely it wasn’t that rusty?   
“Yes, yes it did, rather.” The Angel replied thoughtfully. Perhaps Crawly was being a bit too worried about his Enochian fluency, then.   
There was a beat of silence as the Angel looked flustered. Crawly decided to offer a comment.   
“Bit of an overreaction, if you ask me,” he shrugged. “First offense and everything.”   
The Angel didn’t reply. Crawly decided to continue. It’d been months since he had been able to use his Enochian and his heart was soaring at the use of it.   
“I can’t see what’s so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway.” Crawley finally shrugged.  
This got a reaction from the Angel. “Well it must be bad-” The Angel started, turning back to Crawly with a question in their eyes. Due to the context, Crawly surmised he was being asked his name.  
“Crawley.”   
“Crawley,” The Angel continued. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have tempted them into it.” The Angel seemed self-satisfied after giving his answer.  
This Angel seemed interesting.


	3. power - those who don't have it reach for it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rome ! :)

A few years later, and the friendship with the certain Angel had progressed. Crawley had learnt his name was Aziraphale. He had also learnt, that the certain Angel (whom he was beginning to think of very fondly) had a fondness for human food, language and culture.

Of course, this came naturally to the Angel, as they were a Principality, but it was curious that the Angel would choose such things that inspired sin.

Had Crawley had the guts to ask the Angel’s reasoning, he wasn’t sure if he’d get the answer he’s looking for.

One thing that Crawley hadn’t thought of, when he had been tempting the first and original sin, was that humanity would loose access to Enochian as a language.

Now, this was a problem for a demon agent on Earth for two reasons:

  1. Temptation, while using the supernatural powers the demons as a whole naturally possessed, also required language and comprehension of the tempted subject.
  2. He wouldn’t be able to blend in if he didn’t understand those around him.



So, Crawley, to his chagrin, started learning Latin, the language at the time.

A few things he learnt about latin, was that as a language, it was excellent in demon summoning, tempting, and having existential thoughts in.

Crawley had quite a few laughs with it though; he had once summoned Hastur into a demon summoning circle. He trapped him there for a week, and he was seriously lucky that Hastur couldn’t recognise Crawley in his human corporation.

However, Crawley wasn’t laughing now.

You’re probably wondering, how come?

Well. Crawley had gotten himself summoned. He’d been summoned and probably bound to the will by some Mars worshipper (whom was generally more of a representation of Lucifer, by some chance.)

“An sit servus Martis nymphae priscum?” (Are you a servant of Mars, nymph?) The polytheistic believing priest demanded. All Crawley could see in the lowlight was that he had a book in hand and a candle in the other, but he was dressed for war.

“Nymph?!” Crawley seethed in Enochian. But he calmed for the thought of throttling this stultus.

“Stultus. Erit vester error ultimo, falsa numina cultor.” (Idiot. It will be your last mistake, false worshiper.) Crawley seethed, hellfire igniting in his palms as he looked for some way to break the circle of Latin and sigils beneath him.

“Falsa numina cultor? Vocavique vos igitur Martis servies!” (False worshipper? I called you, therefore you must serve Mars!) The priest replied, hefting the candle up in triumph.

“Quomodo audes,” (How dare you,) Crawley growled, low and guttural. The fire roared higher in his palms. “Quod non est nisi unus serve Dei sum.” (The god I serve is none but one.)

The priest seemed unaffected by the angry flames, and laughed. “Unus? Vos Insanis.” (One? You’re crazy.)

“Vos es rabidus in unum. Tu mortuus es mihi homo. Dimitte me ut patiatur consequatur.” (You're the crazy one. You're dead to me, human. Release me, and you may not suffer consequences. ) Crawley replied in a scary calm. He was unsure if he could break the hold these strong latin bonds had him in, but surely Enochian was stronger, no?

“Consequatur? A capti leonis et vox leaenae et nihil potestis facere.” (Consequences? A trapped lion can do nothing but growl. ) The priest said with a sadistic smile. It finally crossed Crawley’s mind that maybe the priest had some unsavoury things to force him to do.

“Quid est hoc?!” (What is the meaning of this?!) A voice shouted from afar, furious.

“Feci! Ego Mars ciet ad nympham!” (I have done it! I've summoned the Mars nymph.) The priest laughed loudly in hopes the other person would hear it. Crawley seethed at the thought of being called a _nymph of all things_ , and extinguished the flames in his palms. It obviously would do no good to exhaust himself just for intimidation.

“Tu quid-” (You what-) The voice shouted, still angry but confused. The voice seemed to get closer and Crawley could see the flames from a torch light up a column before he saw the face.

Is that-

“Dimittere eum, Felix.” (Release him, Felix.) The angry voice of Aziraphale finally demanded. Aziraphale put the torch in the torch holder and the room lit up with light.

Crawley could now see the ‘Mars priest’ was really a boy in Roman armour.

The boy, Felix, was obviously confused.

“Sed hoc est amet! Hoc primum est quod accidit-” (But this is important! This is the first time this has happened-) Felix protested, obviously frustrated and upset.

“Nunc, Felix!” (Now, Felix!) Aziraphale angrily replied, cutting off the boy’s protests.

The boy did as he was asked, drawing a line in the dust to separate the sigils. Crawley felt the power of them drain away.

Aziraphale spent a moment studying the handiwork of the boy, and when he was satisfied with whatever he saw, he dismissed the boy.

“Derelinquas nos.” (Leave us.) Aziraphale finally said bitterly.

Felix, obviously seeing that Aziraphale was angry, did not protest.

When Felix stepped out, Aziraphale stepped into the circle to look over Crawley, checking for any signs of magical taint or spells.

“I’m fine, Aziraphale.” Crawley sighed, stepping away and out of the circle.

“If you say so, Crawley.” Aziraphale sighed. They were conversing in Enochian now, and the switch obviously calmed Aziraphale a bit. “I apologise for… Felix. He’s always been a curious boy.”

“Curiosity is something I do not desire to smother, Aziraphale.” Crawley chuckled. “However, being taken away from my duties like that, called a _nymph_ of _Mars_ and trapped is generally not how I like my days to go.”

“I would hope so.” Aziraphale replied, a little smile curling on the corners of his mouth.

Oh, that bastard… implying something kinky like that and then pretending nothing happened-

There was a beat of silence.

“So, what are you doing with-” “What about lunch to make up for it?”

Aziraphale laughed. “You go first.”

“Well, what are you doing with Roman gods? What happened to Her propaganda?” Crawley teased.

“This is just the job the upstairs have given me. I’m not sure what the grand scheme of things is, however it is most likely-” Aziraphale began to explain, but Crawley cut him off.

“If you say Ineffable…”

“I might do.” Aziraphale guffawed. Crawley just turned to look at the wall and smile.

“What were you going to say?” Crawley then turned to ask Aziraphale.

“Ah yes- How about lunch?” Aziraphale suggested.

“That sounds like a plan.” Crawley replied, bemused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically? I don't know latin myself, all of it is google translated. If you know some! Feel free to correct me! :)
> 
> Also, I still have a few chapters :) to go :) one of them is almost finished, the other few I haven't written yet! Feel free to comment what you think :)


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